


Sing a Song of Serendipity

by FieryTGWorks (FierySprites)



Series: Worlds of Transformations [4]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Altered Mental States, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bittersweet Ending, Drama, Embedded Images, F/F, F/M, Female Naegi Makoto, Forced Feminization, Groping, Hope vs. Despair, Hopeful Ending, Identity Issues, Junko is a jerk, Male-to-Female Transformation, Mild Language, Mind Manipulation, One-Shot, Sexual Content, Suspense, Transformation, Transgender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-09-30 07:51:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17219900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FierySprites/pseuds/FieryTGWorks
Summary: The first Class Trial is over. Sayaka’s dead. Leon’s been executed for her murder. And Makoto’s left to pick up the pieces. But with a few heartfelt words from the enigmatic Kyoko, maybe, just maybe—he’d be able to continue on, with the memory of his best friend in his heart.…but Junko didn’t see things the same way.Junko being Junko, she spots a once-in-a-lifetime chance (probably) to crank the despair levels up to eleven. And she knows exactly how to do it, too. If Makoto wants to carry Sayaka in his heart… well, who is she to deny his request?(A TF/TG one-shot set during the events ofDanganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, where Makoto Naegi gets transformed into Sayaka Maizono.)





	Sing a Song of Serendipity

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is set during the events of _Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc,_ shortly after the conclusion of the first Class Trial.
> 
> This fic will—obviously—contain massive spoilers for the entirety of that game, from Chapter 1’s victim and murderer, all the way up to the true mastermind of the killing game. If you haven’t done so already, go see the entirety of that game first before reading this. (Though honestly, you really should know them by this point. They’re literally everywhere in this fandom, you really can’t miss ‘em.)
> 
>  **Warnings:** This one-shot contains Male-to-Female TF/TG, Mental Changes, Identity Issues, Slight Sexual Content (thanks, Junko), Strong Language (again—thanks, Junko), and Mature Descriptions. Reader discretion is advised.

**Hope’s Peak Academy  
Basement – Trial Room**

It was over.

The first Class Trial, the first clash of hope and despair, of truth and lies (and faith as well);

The trial to determine the murderer of **Sayaka Maizono** , the Ultimate Pop Sensation, Makoto’s first friend (and first crush)—

—it was finally over.

Leon Kuwata had been proven the first ‘blackened’ of the Killing School Life, having taken Sayaka’s life in a case of self-defense – and was summarily and cruelly executed for his crime, as deemed suitable by Monokuma. Of course, his idea of ‘suitable’ was on par with a psychopath’s, but that was par for the course with their captor. Wasn’t a good thing for Leon, though.

And now that the dust was settling down, **Makoto Naegi** —the Ultimate Luckster—could only lament over all that had transpired over the past day. Everyone else may have been internally panicking over the way Leon had been executed, and the revelations as to the nature of the killing game, but Makoto could only focus on his own personal struggles. _I… I still can’t believe what had happened,_ he thought. _Sayaka really tried to frame me. She really tried to kill Leon. And instead of succeeding, she got killed by Leon instead._

Oh boy, did _that_ still bring pangs in his heart, even after several hours to get used to it. Sayaka’s life – so young, with so much to still live for – had been cut short, just like that. And the only thing more painful than that was how the whole event came about to begin with: _Her dreams, her friends, they were really important to her. I can see that. Understand it a little, even. But… I wish she didn’t have to try sacrificing all of us to get back to them. Sacrificing Leon. Sacrificing **me.**_

_…did our friendship really matter so little?_

_Did she talk to me only because she knew me already?_

_Because she knew how to lie to me?_

_Because I was so, so… **gullible?**_

_…was that all there was to it?_

Makoto didn’t know the answer – and he’d never know, because—well… Sayaka wasn’t coming back. She’d never smile again. She’d never correctly guess Makoto’s thoughts with her intuition again. She’d never get to sing another song.

She was gone.

And that _hurt._

Oh, it hurt so much.

On some level, Makoto knew that this had a possibility of happening. After all, it was a killing game – the name alone implied that there would be people dying. Three people had died already, in fact, and only a few days had passed since the ‘game’ officially begun.

But it was still a shock. Death had been a concept he’d never had to really think about until now. If it hadn’t been for his ability to adapt to the class trial…

…well, he wouldn’t have been able to think about it then, either – just in a different way.

(And if Leon’s execution was anything to go by, a really _brutally_ ‘different way’.)

Monokuma’s words, said from him to the twelve remaining Ultimates moments before, echoed back into his brain.

 _‘Well hey, if you don’t like it,’_ he had taunted them, _‘all you gotta do is swear to cut all ties with the outside world and accept living here forever!’_

_‘What happened, happened because more than one of you decided you wanted to get out, right? No matter how much time passes, you can't cut free of your regrets from the outside world. **You guys** are the ones to blame!’_

_…but that’s not true. He’s the one who’s trapped us all in here and gave us the motives; **he’s** the real instigator behind everything!_

But hadn’t it been Sayaka that had fallen for it? Even despite the fact that it was Monokuma’s fault overall, hadn’t it been her that had decided she needed to murder to escape? Just because the bear was an expert manipulator, did it really change the fact that the Pop Sensation still clung on to it hook, line, and sinker?

As Makoto and everyone else remained where they were, silently contemplating the things that had transpired and the things that were yet to come, the Luckster had someone else walk up to him and initiate conversation.

“Makoto. Can I talk to you for a second?” It was **Kyoko Kirigiri** , the Ultimate Unknown (as she had yet to reveal her talent to her peers). She seemed to be much more knowledgeable than she let on, as proven by the class trial, so there must’ve been a reason why she was here.

Makoto nodded to her request—it wasn’t like there was any harm in it; the trial _just_ ended—and she leaned in close to his ear and whispered, “Before we head back, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

He got it instantly, given the circumstances of their situation. “…it’s about Sayaka, isn’t it?” he said. What else could it be, honestly? It had been a rather personal matter for him, too.

“I’m surprised you figured it out,” Kyoko remarked. _(Hey, I’m not **that** dense!_ Makoto internally protested. Then again, he _did_ fail to pick up on Sayaka’s plot to murder… Perhaps, if he had seen that, then maybe…) “I told you before the class trial started… You had to figure out the mystery of this case yourself.”

He summarized, “You wanted me to realize how Sayaka betrayed me by myself, didn’t you?” He fought to hide a flinch. (He was never one for hiding his feelings—that’s why he was so easy to read, according to Sayaka—but the recent events had forced him to become just a little more adept in it.) “The thought of that happening never even crossed my mind. I feel like such a fool, becoming such an easy target like that…”

Kyoko put a hand on the side of her head. “Sayaka meant to double-cross you,” she stated. “That’s a fact you can never change. But even to the very end, she wasn’t sure of her decision.” He blinked. _Huh? What… do you mean?_ “That’s why… as she lay dying, she was thinking of you.”

Makoto’s eyes subtly widened. “She was thinking… of me…?” he repeated, his brow furrowing in confusion. “…You can’t just say something like that. I mean, there’s no way you can know that. Only Sayaka would know for sure, and… we can’t ask her now.” _Because she’s gone._

“Even if you can’t ask her, you can infer it, don’t you think?” the Ultimate Question Mark continued. “Her final thought… was of how she could protect you.”

And now the Luckster was even more confused than before. “What…? P-Protect… me…?”

“The fact that she used her last ounce of energy to leave her dying message proves it,” Kyoko explained. “If she didn’t care about what happened to you, she never would have left that message.”

He didn’t quite believe it. (How could he, really, after what Sayaka had pulled…?) “Well… maybe she just wanted to get back at her killer,” he offered. That was as good an explanation as any.

But Kyoko wasn’t deterred. “That’s certainly one possibility,” she admitted, “but I don’t think that’s what it was. She was uncertain. She wasn’t sure she could kill someone, or deceive you. That’s why her plan failed. Her hesitation attracted failure. It’s… almost ironic, if you think about it.”

_If you think of it that way, then yeah. It really is…_

_…Sayaka…_

“…why are you telling me all this?” Makoto finally asked her. What was the point? She could’ve honestly just let him simmer in his own thoughts and let that be the end of it. Heck, under normal circumstances, that seemed like something she’d do, given her rather anti-social nature. And yet…

“Because you’re the kind of person who can overcome this,” she said, looking directly into Makoto’s eyes. Her lavender eyes displayed a stoic confidence in her words, one that made him almost want to believe. “Because you can move past the death of your friends – Sayaka and Leon – and keep moving forward. Without someone like that, the others would never be able to break free of such a desperate situation.”

“Move past their deaths?” That _would_ be the easy route, but… _After everything that had happened, it wouldn’t be right._ “That’s… I could never do that.”

“…”

“No… I’m going to carry them with me for the rest of my life.” He looked at Kyoko with an equally determined expression, declaring, “How could I ‘move past’ something like that? Leon… Sayaka… I’ll carry them with me forever. I’ll carry their memories with me wherever I go!”

That was the route he was choosing to walk. He couldn’t forget his friends now, even if they hadn’t truly known each other for very long. Sayaka, Leon—even Junko, who had her life equally cut short in such a twisted manner. He’d carry the memories he had of them and use them to remember what he was fighting for, the hope he was striving for. It wouldn’t be easy, he knew that—but there was no way he could do anything differently.

“So instead of forgetting them, you’re taking the harder road.” She paused for a bit, before she revealed the smallest smile. Faint, just barely visible – but it was there. “Well… I have high expectations for you, then.”

Makoto smiled himself. _She’s so mysterious, and yet… she knew what to say to get me to lift my spirits. That’s… really what I needed._

_It doesn’t matter what Sayaka did now. It may be painful, but… I won’t forget my first friend here. She and Leon, they meant something to me. So for their sakes, I won’t let their sacrifices be in vain. Not now, not ever._

_That’s a promise._

“By the way,” Kyoko spoke up, “I have to admit, I’m curious… How did you know I wanted to talk to you about Sayaka?”

“Oh, well…”

There was really only one thing he could say. One thing that would fit the best. (Wouldn’t it be ironic, after _she_ used it so much?)

“…I’m psychic.”

Kyoko looked startled, placing a gloved hand on her chest. She hadn’t expected that. “H-Huh?”

Makoto’s smile became a little rueful. “I’m kidding,” he said.

“…I just have pretty good intuition.”

* * *

**Fourth Floor – Data Processing Room**

“Ugh, why won’t you just… lose hope already!?” a frustrated girl groaned from her place in Hope’s Peak Academy’s Data Processing Room, spinning around in a swivel chair. The room was littered with monitors, showcasing a wide variety of security footage of areas around the academy, but right now, there was only one she had eyes for. Amidst all the other screens showcasing all the Ultimates in the trial room—and boy, did she get a kick out of all of their despairing faces—she glared at the one with the image of Makoto Naegi and Kyoko Kirigiri on it, practically shouting, “Hurry up and despair, Makoto! I didn’t start this killing game to make you _hopeful!_ _Blegh!”_

This was **Junko Enoshima** , the Ultimate Fashionista (plus Ultimate Analyst, though the few who knew that were kinda dead now), and the self-proclaimed Ultimate Despair that caused the end of the world. Contrary to what the other twelve students believed, she was not, in fact, dead – that was only her disguised sister. And what they also did not know was that she also happened to be the true mastermind behind the Killing School Life. (Plot twist, huh?)

She was the one who was putting them all through the killing game, wiping two years’ worth of friendship just to make them suffer for her own amusement – and to vanquish any last trace of resistance out in the world, but mostly the former. She was the villain, the antagonist, the Big Bad behind all the despair that had ensued.

And right now, she was absolutely _infuriated_ that Makoto—her antithesis, her _nemesis—_ was still standing strong with his _disgusting_ hope. The deaths of not one, not two, but _three_ of his friends in the timespan of twelve hours, and he _still_ hadn’t fallen to despair yet!?

 _“You’re supposed to be a herbivore!”_ she hissed. “ _A total weakling!—_ other than your propensity for hope, of course _.”_ She shuddered. Hope was her weakness, the exact opposite of what she was born for. Even _talking_ about it gave her the shivers. To a person hyped up on so much despair, the mere existence of such a hope ran counter to everything Junko stood for.

And Makoto showed way, _way_ too much of it, to the point where he stood a very real chance of derailing her beloved Killing School Life if it grew too strong. Sure, it wasn’t dangerous _now…_ but it could definitely prove dangerous _later._

“‘Carrying their memories wherever I go…’ What a joke!” she scoffed. “That stupid **detective** just had to go and cheer him up after I went through all that effort to induce despair into his tiny herbivore brain. Looks like that memory loss wasn’t as extensive as I thought it’d be.”

Memory-wiping the Ultimate Detective had been a necessity for her killing game to work, else Kyoko would have solved every mystery about the school in an instant, long before she ever wanted them to. But unfortunately for Junko, her amnesia wasn’t helping as much as it should’ve. “I’ll deal with her later. Right now, I need to come up with plans for dear old Makoto.”

Instinctively, she put on a pair of spectacles and pulled out a clipboard and pencil. “Let’s see,” she said, her voice becoming educated and clinical as she began to jot down some notes, “interfering in the killing game personally would be a detriment to the cause of despair. That’s why I had that useless sister of mine acting as a mole… well, before I killed her off, that is.”

She snickered. _That_ had been a rush of despair she had been waiting for a long time. _And Mukuro never saw it coming. For an Ultimate Soldier, she was truly too dumb to even try dodging my spears. Oh, the look on her face as she finally realized what I did…!_

“Unfortunately,” she continued, getting back into gear, “none of the motives I have prepared are suitable to getting rid of Makoto. His secret is embarrassing, but nothing worth killing over; he has no interest in money; and moreover, he has no killing intent at all. I was intending on driving him to despair with the deaths of his friends, and later the true nature of the killing game—but if he can get over the death of Sayaka so easily, then that plan won’t work out.” (And she had it all planned out, too!)

This was a personal matter to Junko. For her, nothing mattered more than sending that Ultimate Luckster to the deepest depths of despair she could drive him toward. But how could she do that while still staying true to the rules she had presented to the other Ultimates and herself?

She sat in that chair for quite some time, thinking over potential plans and writing them down, only to grumble and scratch them out almost immediately. Many ideas shot through her analytical mind, only to be shot down just as fast due to a litany of reasons: ‘not enough despair,’ ‘breaks the rules of the game,’ ‘too dumb, why did I even think of it,’ et cetera.

Eventually, she threw her hands up in the sky and yelled, _“ARRRRRRGH! That—that—! That dumb, stupid, hopeful bastard is always causing me so many problems!”_ That was another thing about her—she liked to swap personalities every few minutes. Made her less bored with herself, or so she claims. (She didn’t normally didn’t do it while alone, but she was so horrifically frustrated that it was the only thing that gave her relief right now.) “I wish I could just fuckin’— _make_ him somebody else who would despair so much easier! _UGH!”_

…wait.

Wait.

Wait wait wait wait _wait._

“Make him… somebody _else…!”_ she repeated to herself. _“That’s it!”_

She jolted back up, and a spree of giggles emitted themselves from her mouth. “Puhuhuhuhu… Yes, yes, this could actually work!” She flipped a page over on her clipboard and began frantically jotting down her newest idea before it could completely escape her brain. She forgot to utilize any of her other personalities as she excitedly moved her hand about the piece of paper.

As she did, a bright red blush started to illuminate Junko’s face, an indicator of how… ecstatic she was getting over her new plan. If anyone had seen her then, they would’ve taken at least a dozen steps back before making a run for it. A long, _long_ run for it. Preferably to the other side of the continent. “Puhuhuhuhu… _Puhuhuhuhu…!_ This’ll be one of the greatest despairs I’ve ever seen! A new type of despair, one that will crush hope like nothing before! Ohhhh, this is so… _so…_ _exciting!”_

A wide, demented, utterly despair-inducing grin came from her lips as she began to laugh her lungs out, safe in the fact that there was no one around to hear her cries. “Just you wait, Makoto,” she promised. “I’m going to make you despair like nothing else! And by the time it ends, you’ll be _begging_ for more! More and more and _more and more **and more!** PUHUHUHUHU!”_

A twisted laughter rang through the night, getting ever more hysterical as it built and built up at a never-ending rate.

Had anyone around knew what it was laughing about…

…well, they’d certainly pity Makoto for the things that were to happen that night.

They’d also be disgusted by the sheer lengths Junko would go to, but… mostly the former.

* * *

**First Floor – Makoto’s Room**

Makoto lay on top of his bed in contemplation, the lights in the room still turned on despite the fact that it was night… presumably. It was hard to tell if it was actually night, given how all the windows were blocked with massive steel plates – but Monokuma’s announcements gave him some semblance of normality, so he’d take his word for it.

The state of his room had been returned to normal after the trial had ended. The scratches were gone, the table had been set back upright, his bedsheets had been replaced… and, most importantly of all, the restroom had been cleaned up. Sayaka’s body had completely disappeared, as did her bloodstains… almost like she had never been there at all.

~~(…no, don’t think about that now.)~~

_How powerful **is** Monokuma, if he can get rid of everything just like that? Why is he making us play this game? What does he want with us?_ Questions like these continued to rack Makoto’s brain. He wanted to go to sleep, he really did – but it wasn’t like he could do it so easily after everything that had happened, despite his resolve to carry on.

He sighed. “I should turn off the lights,” he mused. “I won’t be able to sleep if they’re on.” The Luckster sat up and walked over to the light switch next to the door, taking care not to bump into anything along the way. But just as he was about to flick it off…

Monokuma jumped into his face. _“RAZZLEFRAZZLEDAZZLE!”_

“Wh- _Whoa!”_ Makoto yelped, hopping backward and falling on his behind. One hand was placed over his heart in surprise. Once he got over his shock, he steeled his face in barely-concealed anger. “Monokuma! What do you want!?”

The twisted bear put his raised arms down. “Aw, Makoto,” he cooed, “can’t a headmaster come to say hello to his beloved students?” He spun around, holding a paw behind his monochromatic head. “I go through all this trouble for you guys, and you don’t even appreciate it! I’m _so_ disappointed!”

“Get to the point,” the Luckster said. “I don’t really want to deal with you right now.” _Especially not after today! You’re talking as if you hadn’t thrown us all into the depths of despair earlier!_

“Fine, fine, ruin a bear’s day, will ya?” Monokuma grumbled. “You don’t know how to have any fun…” The robotic bear stood up straighter, though his face looked no less goofy than usual. “So, I just wanted to ask: how was the Class Trial today? I mean, the murder took place in _your room!_ If _I_ had something like that happen to me… well, I’d be perfectly fine; I _am_ a bear—but still! I wanted to make sure you’re alright. You know… since you had your **_best friend die_** and all.”

Makoto clenched his fists. He’d punch Monokuma for bringing the topic up, since he was Monokuma and all, if it wouldn’t give him a one-way ticket to being executed.

“Not to mention—that whole ‘carrying their memories wherever you go’ spiel? That’s so cheesy! And I hate cheese, ‘cause I’m a bear! Bears are supposed to kill mice, don’t you know!? …or was that cats?” He tilted his head. “Ah, whatever! Bears, cats, they’re all the same in the end! Anyway, the point is—you should be in total despair! You shouldn’t be all—all— _hopeful_ like this! It disgusts me!”

Makoto gave a long, long sigh. “I don’t need your blabbering, Monokuma,” he said, exasperated. “Leave already, will you?”

“No way!” he shouted. “Don’t you know how important this is to me!?” _No, considering all you’ve done is just yell at me for the last minute!_ “You can’t call it ‘blabbering’ like that! That totally devalues the meaning of my words! ARGH! …ah, whatever. You’ll be much more receptive to my words soon enough!”

 _Wh-Wha? M-‘More receptive’…!? That_ didn’t sound good. Was he talking about another motive!? And so soon after the first trial, too!? He couldn’t let this go. “H-Hey, what do you mean by that!?” the Luckster demanded to know. “You know I’d never give in to your sick desires! Not after what happened with Sayaka and Junko!”

“Puhuhuhuhu… Funny you should mention those names,” the bear giggled, both paws brought up to his mouth. It was a very ominous sounding giggle, and did nothing to calm Makoto’s nerves at all. (Not like anything Monokuma-related would have done so, anyway.) “You see,” he began to explain, “your reaction at the end of the class trial today _really_ bothered me. It’s like an itch in your ass crack you can’t scratch even though you _really_ want to—you get what I mean?” (Makoto grimaced. _I **so** do not want to!)_ “I heard you go on about ‘not forgetting your friends’ and other useless, unflattering junk like that. Normally, stuff like that would get on my nerves **in** a bad way, but then I started wondering…”

Monokuma started walking around Makoto, the Luckster keeping a steady eye on his captor with a growing worry in his heart. _Nothing can be good if he starts **wondering** about something!_ “I’m a bear who seeks despair; nothing more, nothing less. And your words gave me an idea I couldn’t get rid of it. If you want to ‘carry’ your good friend Sayaka Maizono with you forever… how ‘bout I grant that wish for you, in the most despair-inducing way possible!”

“…wha?” _And as usual,_ Makoto thought, _Monokuma’s making no sense at all!_ “‘Grant my wish’…? Even _if_ I knew what you were talking about,” _and I really, **really** don’t want to know,_ “there’s no way I’d let _you_ grant any of my wishes! I don’t need you to mess up things more than you already have!”

“Oh, Makoto! You _really_ believe I’d mess up something as important as _this?_ How shameful!” Monokuma mock-pouted. “I must not be doing a very good job as your headmaster, for you to think such bad things about me!” _Of course you’re not doing a very good job; you’re the one forcing us to kill each other!_ “Besides,” his voice got rougher, “it _wasn’t_ a request!”

Silently, the bear reached behind his back… and inexplicably pulled out a comically giant syringe, the contents of which held a warm, blue liquid _(Sayaka blue,_ he noticed, oddly enough), not to mention a… couple of strands of hair? (Eh?) Whatever it was, Makoto did _not_ want to get injected with it. Shots were bad enough, thank you very much; anything similar from _Monokuma_ couldn’t be any better!

It didn’t help that Makoto could hear a very audible _‘SCHING!’_ from the syringe’s tip.

The sudden edge in his captor’s voice, combined with the weapon he pulled out _(I thought he wasn’t allowed to get involved with the killing game!_ he thought), caught the Luckster off-guard. Slowly, he began to back away, officially frightened out of his wits. “M-M-Monokuma…?” he stammered out, taking several large steps back. “W-What’s up with you…!?”

“Oh, it’s nothing you should worry your little antenna about,” Monokuma unsuccessfully tried to convince him. “I’m doing this for your own good! Now, sit on down and let _Doctor Killgood perform his medical check!”_

The demented bear lunged at the Luckster, forcing him to quickly dive out of the way to avoid getting speared (funny choice of words, considering Junko). Instinctively, he bolted toward his bedroom door and tried opening the door—to no avail.

 _Wh-What!?_ he panicked. In a rush, he began jittering the doorknob as much as he could.

No good. It was locked.

 _S-Since when could he do **that!?**_ he frantically wondered—but he didn’t have time to truly figure an answer out before he had to dodge yet another stab from Monokuma.

 _“Stop moving around!”_ the self-proclaimed headmaster growled. _“Can’t you see I’m only trying to help you!?”_

 _Help, my butt!_ “No way!” Makoto retorted, dashing all about his room. There was a bit of irony to this, he noted—hadn’t Sayaka and Leon had a similar struggle the previous night? In this very room, in fact?

 _Too bad I don’t have the time to think about that!_ Makoto’s room may not have been very big, but there was certainly enough room to move about in. Unfortunately, that also meant that the Luckster couldn’t put any sort of distance between him and Monokuma, and in the end, all he was really doing was stalling for time.

Desperately, he tried one last move. _“HELP!”_ he screamed. _“SOMEBODY! ANYBODY! **HELP!”**_

Unsurprisingly, no reply came.

…figures.

“Silly Makoto!” his pursuer snickered. “Don’t you remember? The walls are soundproof! Sayaka knew that—well, at least, before she _died.”_ (Makoto’s face winced at the reminder.)  “But don’t you worry—this operation won’t hurt a bit, unlike her death!”

The chase continued on for a while longer, Makoto having a surprising amount of endurance for being an ordinary boy-retitled-Ultimate Luckster. (Or maybe that was just his own luck at play.) But Monokuma proved to be a persistent foe, and Makoto was tiring out. _I can’t… let him… catch me…!_ he thought, trying frantically to keep going. _I have to… keep going…_ _I have to… keep hoping…!_

Unfortunately for him, his luck soon took a turn for the worse. Out of nowhere, his feet stumbled upon a loose floorboard—something no other room in the dorms had, conveniently enough—and he tripped right onto his bed, his momentum completely stopped. “A-Ah!” he yelped as his face tumbled into his pillow. _N-No! Get—get up, me!_

But he was out of strength—and Monokuma was faster. With a comically large jump onto his bed that Makoto was helpless to avoid, the demented bear plunged his syringe forward and injected its contents into the Ultimate Lucky Student. And just to be as much of a prick as possible, he did it right in his butt.

The poor boy cried out in pain immediately, given the area that was being penetrated – plus the fact that this was no simple shot he was being forced to take. _“Uuuuuahhhhhh!”_ he let out, the jolt he was feeling completely distracting him from trying to get away. (Not like he could, anyway.)

The bear kept pumping the liquid into Makoto, repeatedly drawing in and out the plunger as painfully as he could, until there was no longer any of the strange medication left. Even before all of it had entered his body, he found his whole body beginning to tremble uncontrollably – and if he wasn’t mistaken, his crotch seemed to be stiffening as well, despite the fact that no lewd thoughts were going through his brain.

That didn’t bode anything good.

Makoto grit his teeth as Monokuma hopped off his bed and waltzed around to his captive’s bedside, bringing his paws to his mouth. “Puhuhuhuhu!” he giggled. “Look at you, Makoto! Your despairing metamorphosis is finally about to begin! Oh, I can’t wait to see the hopelessness on your face once you realize what’s going on…!”

“What… What are you… talking about…!?” Makoto panted, barely able to keep himself together. “What have… you done… to me…!?”

“Oh, nothing, _nothing!”_ Monokuma’s face darkened. “…I just fulfilled your little wish, that’s all.”

The Luckster wanted to ask him what he meant, but he was distracted from which by a sudden and strange sensation rushing straight up to his head. Cautiously, he brought a hand to his head – and beneath his palm, he felt a bunch of tiny strands growing, _rushing_ past his hand. There was even something was poking into the edges of his vision… and he quickly realized that said something happened to be _his hair._

“H-Huh!?” Makoto’s mop of hair was extending at a rate faster than he ever thought possible; extending so far, in fact, that it was now reaching well past his shoulders – and he’d never had that occur before. He could see them lying on his body, too. Not only that, his scruffy locks, which ordinarily would listen to no type of hair gel, was inexplicably being affected by gravity again, becoming simply silky and smooth, much to his surprise. “This is—wha!?” he spluttered.

And more bewilderingly, it was changing _color:_ the chocolate brown he had long become accustomed to was brightening up to a warm, ocean blue; and after his experience that day, such a color – which he subconsciously categorized as Sayaka’s hair color – was definite cause for alarm. He stared at his locks in something resembling abject horror, unable to speak, until Monokuma started speaking up again.

“Puhuhuhuhu… And so it begins! Funny, I thought it’d begin with your butt instead—heaven knows you’re _very_ lacking in that department, herbivore boy—” _H-Hey! Wh-What do you mean by that!? T-Take this seriously, d-damn it!_ “—but I guess old clichés die hard, am I right!?” The schizophrenic bear—who Makoto was beginning to really hate—cackled aloud in a despairing delight. “Though, I guess you’re _‘lucky’_ enough not to have to go through the ‘body hair’ part first – ‘cuz you don’t _have_ any!”

“C-Cut it out!” Makoto shouted, almost hilariously confused as to what was actually going on. “Wh-What have you—!?” He was interrupted from his exclamations with a strong, explosive sensation seemingly trying to burst out of his butt, and he almost embarrassingly squealed with its inception. The results proved themselves horrifying: the Luckster’s posterior was inflating at a slow but steady pace, each second it went on bringing with it what could only be described as adrenaline.

Waves of pain crashed against his body, all thoughts about his hair forgotten as he writhed around on his bed. Now not only was his butt becoming bigger, his whole torso was cracking and caving in. This had the side-effects of widening out his hips and inwardly curving in his stomach; and all of the aforementioned sequences going off at once induced a ton of unstoppable agony over his senses – just the way Monokuma liked it. His internal organs seemed to be shifting around, too, though he had no way of confirming _that._

He rolled about on his bed to try and subdue the pain, but it was a fruitless effort. Before too long, his body had ended up much more feminine than before. And though he wasn’t the most masculine person out there—ironically enough, instead of dropping any inches, he actually gained two—his brand new frame was still very noticeable to anyone of sufficient eyesight. (And if he was being honest, the whole thing was giving him shivers of a more sexual kind – though he’d never admit it out loud.)

“Gee, you look like you were _born_ for this type of thing!” Monokuma remarked. “You’re so hopelessly generic, you could become anyone in the world and no one would bat an eye!”

Struggling to keep his eyes open, Makoto barely found the strength to ask, “Become… anyone…!? J-Just… what is… happening… to me…!?”

More prickly feelings soon made their way throughout the rest of his body, seemingly covering every bit of skin on him. Such a thorny sensation also just so happened to spike around his arms and legs, leaving him almost more immobile and emitting wounded groans from his mouth. Slowly, he brought a hand to his face, to get an idea as to the extent of its effects – but the minute he did, he instantly regretted it.

To his further horror, his arms were slimming down and slenderizing, becoming additionally skinnier than they normally were (again, he wasn’t very masculine). The same thing was occurred to his hands; each individual finger had far less mass than prior, and his pair of hands in general seemed more girly than he could have conceived – not helped in part thanks to his fingernails increasing in length as well.

He lifted his other hand to the air and, using his other hand, tentatively reached out to it in disbelief. He accidentally scratched himself while doing so, thanks to his sharper nails— _“Y-Yowch!”_ he yelped—and found himself surprised by how much more sensitive to touch his skin suddenly was. In fact, if he was looking at it right—and he honestly hoped he wasn’t—there was even an element of… _smoothness_ to it (and gosh, was that an incredibly awkward term).

 _This—This is **crazy!**_ he thought. _E-Even crazier than this whole killing game!_

His feet weren’t any better: they were just as dainty and tiny as his hands had become, and had long toenails to boot. His legs, meanwhile, were curvier and shapelier, adding yet another strange layer of femininity to his figure. And, of course, the overly delicate skin was plastered all over them, too. If Makoto actually began to walk on the floor – which, as of currently, he wasn’t in any condition to do – he’d find it would be far more difficult a task than he remembered.

“You still don’t get it?” Monokuma giggled, indulging himself with his ‘student’s’ changing appearance. “I granted your wish! You wanted to carry Sayaka’s spirit with you forever… so what better way to do that than to personally make your body worthy of carrying it? They always say that your body is a temple – I’m just the guy who renovates ‘em! You’re lucky I’m not charging you for this, you know.”

Makoto got the idea, though it took him a bit to properly realize it. “You’re—You’re t-turning me into a _g-girl!?”_ he shouted, flinching as his form continued to tingle painfully. “N-No, w-wait—into _Sayaka!?”_

That… That was _frightening—_ the sheer amount of power and resources Monokuma had at his disposal… it was bewildering. And not only that, the thought of turning into a girl—into his _best friend,_ who happened to _die_ not even twenty-four hours ago…

Was nothing sacred to his captor?

…not even his own sense of self?

“Bingo! That’s right!” the bear revealed. “Man, everything about your situation is giving me an unparalleled sense of despair! I could replay this scene in my mind over and over and over and it’d _never_ get old! It’s like watching one of your favorite movies, except even better – ‘cuz it’s _reality!_ Don’t need to waste any money for it, either! Do you know how annoying it is to have to pay for a privilege like that—”

“St- _Stop it!”_ the Luckster interrupted him, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. “H-How… How can you… say such things… and not even… have any sympathy… for what you’ve done…!?”

“I’m a bear!” he casually answered. “I don’t have _any_ concept of this thing you humans call ‘sympathy’ or ‘compassion’ or whatever stupid term you kids are using nowadays. Like, if I had children, I’d consider them utterly disposable! Everyone should, really! Because honestly, what’s the point of ‘em? They eat up all your resources and are plain annoying to deal with. Pointless, really!

“Anyway,” he continued, getting back on track, “you should feel _privileged_ that I’m giving you this opportunity to begin with! Most people out there would _kill_ for a chance like this – and I’m not just saying that ‘cause this is a killing game and all! And the best part hasn’t even started yet!”

As the twisted bear continued to ramble on incessantly _(B-Best part?_ he thought. _He—He can’t be talking about…!?),_ Makoto’s transformation continued onward. The rest of his head, which had been relatively unaffected up to that point—disregarding his hair, mind you—was heading back on track to change; this was preempted by an _intense_ headache pulsating all over it. He let out another loud, agonized groan, both his changed palms rushing up to the sides of his head to try and soothe the pain, even burrowing it right into his pillow – but his efforts were, to put it mildly, wasted.

Every part of his face began to morph at the same time: his nose tingled and shrank, becoming rather cute and petite; his lips automatically moistened and appeared noticeably plumper; his chin narrowed to a point, his cheekbones and overall features in the meantime becoming softer and less pronounced… All these additions added to the mounting femininity going on his face, helped none by the accompanying aching that came with each.

And as the capstone to this brigade of transformative disasters, a tremendous itch welled up behind his eyeballs, forcing him to shift gears from holding his head to closing his eyes and rubbing them furiously. Behind the eyelids, his irises enlarged and changed color to a bright, cheerful blue, a contrast from their former soft, contemplative green. And notably, they looked less angular than before, too, and had lengthened eyelashes—which every girl seemed to come standard with—to boot.

By the time this portion of the transformation was complete, you could barely even tell the Luckster used to be a male – and this was further compounded by the fact that his clothes barely fit him anymore. Were he to be sitting up or actually be standing on the ground, he’d find his clothes constantly trying to slip to the floor, his pants (and underwear) most of all. Not helping any of this was the combination of agony and arousal coursing through his veins, a detestable mixture which could only have come from Monokuma’s doings.

_Wh-Why… Why is this happening…!? Why do **I** have to be the one going through this…!?_

“…and you see, I think that people should really loosen up on budget restraints! Even I, as marvelous as I am, have to go through it, and I can’t do my best hosting this killing game if I’m being held down! You get what I mean, right Makoto?”

Makoto began coughing repeatedly, which only accelerated his growing unfamiliarity with his own self; each successive cough seemingly serving to send _something_ receding down his throat—and increasing the pitch of his voice, too. “You… You can’t…!” Soon enough, he was speaking in Sayaka’s beautiful, harmonious tones – and damn if it didn’t feel as strange as hell. It took all his might to not noticeably react to it in front of the ceaselessly chatting bear. “You can’t just—just d- _do_ something l-like this…! There’s… There’s no reason…!”

“Oh?” If Monokuma had any eyebrows, he’d be raising them here. “No reason for me to do this, you say?” He once more brought his paws to his mouth. “Puhuhuhuhu… You’re so uneducated. I’m not just doing this for you… I’m doing this for your **despair**.”

“D-Despair…?” _…There’s that term again. The one Monokuma likes using so much…_

“Yep! Despair! The lifeblood of everyone and everything in this world! You’re too hopeful; _much_ too hopeful for a killing game like this! That’s another reason why I’m here: to personally extinguish your hope into itty bitty tiny pieces, to grind it out ‘til there’s nothing left!” He cackled loudly again as he proclaimed next, “And I betcha even _more_ of that’ll happen right now!”

“Wh-Wha!?” And then it hit him. The feeling that he had subconsciously dreaded this whole time. But he didn’t have time to put any real thought into thinking about it, for just as soon as the tingling started, the torment followed in earnest. A sharp spike _slammed_ into Makoto’s crotch—and it hurt.

It. _Absolutely._ **_Hurt._**

(And it was music to Monokuma’s ears.)

 _“K-KYAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”_ he screamed, uncontrollably squirting something out in the process and unfortunately staining his pants – and his bedsheets. (Though honestly, that was the least of his worries.) He bit his lip, his face straining in pain, his hands going to his crotch in an attempt to try and stop the event, even if just a little. There was no escaping it though; with every passing second, his manhood, to his horror, shrunk further and further, to the point where it barely even existed anymore.

_N-No! Th-This… This c-can’t be…!_

He wanted so desperately to grab it, to keep that something that defined him, to deny Monokuma the pleasure of taking it away from him ~~(just like he indirectly took away three of his friends)~~ —but his desires were not to be granted. He couldn’t even put all his effort in to it, what with the coursing pain all around preventing him from fully focusing. And the catastrophic effects of such a delay kicked in soon thereafter, for in the blink of an eye, the poor Luckster found himself—or rather, **_herself_** —the not-quite-proud owner of a freshly wet slit. The resounding pops that came from it, as a result of her balls receding into her body, didn’t help matters either.

“BWAHAHAHAHA!” Monokuma guffawed. “It’s finally happened! You’re a girl now! A sweet, virgin, yet-to-be-deflowered girl! I wouldn’t know how it feels, being a bear and all, but it’s gotta be despairingly amazing for ya! Aren’t you just so happy with the gift I’ve given you?”

“Y-You…” For the first time in her whole life, Makoto felt real malice toward this—this—this _abominable asshole_ trapping her and everyone else in this school. The insufferable arrogance—even more so than Byakuya—and overwhelming audacity that spewed out of his mouth was simply… infuriating to her, on a level she’d never known before. “You’re just—just— _terrible!”_ she spat, desperately ignoring the unfamiliar voice— _Sayaka’s_ voice—coming from her mouth (and how it hurt so bad to hear). “This… This isn’t _anything…_ like what I wanted! This isn’t a gift! This is— _torture!”_

“Torture, you say? I wouldn’t say that – this isn’t an execution, after all. I could do so much worse; you should be grateful. Besides, this is almost over. One more step to go, and then you’ll be all ready to go!”

“A-All reaaa— _E- **Eeeeeeep!”**_ The questioning tone in her voice soon transitioned into yet another terrified shriek as the swelling sensation that had inflated Makoto’s butt had, at last, finally moved onto her chest. Through the unholy mixture of extreme distress and sexual excitement – which did nothing to help her newly exhilarated womanhood (was—was something _leaking_ from it?) – the Luckster(?) could feel two fleshy balloons pushing out from her chest. And they really were like balloons; it wouldn’t be out of place if the sound of air blowing into them played this second.

Sayaka wasn’t the most endowed girl around, sure, but she still had visible breasts to… marvel at (and the rest of herself too, since she was a very popular idol and all), as much as Makoto was embarrassed to admit it. Said endowments were now lightly pushing against her loose hoodie, and much to her discomfort, they seemed to be just as sensitive as the rest of her parts. As she flipped around on her back, she looked down upon them and slowly prodded them, acting almost as if they weren’t real. That all _this—_ wasn’t real.

But they were.

They were real.

All this was real.

 _She_ was real, she was Sayaka, and— _and—_

…these breasts on her were the final confirmation of that terrifying truth: that she was no longer Makoto Naegi.

That she now harbored the body of her dead best friend.

That she was now, for all intents and purposes… the Ultimate Pop Sensation.

One final rush of arousal went through her whole body at a poke too deep, and an intense red blush manifested itself on her cute cheeks. It felt especially stimulating, given that she wasn’t wearing a bra, and that only highlighted how awkward it all was. _This… This is me now,_ she fully realized. _I’m Sayaka. I’m **Sayaka**. And… I’ve got her entire body as proof. I’m… I’m actually her._

 _…I…_ A quiet, nervous laugh went through her mind. _I really **am** carrying her with me now, h-huh…? H-Heh heh… It’s—It’s kind of serendipitous, in a way…_

_…wait, what am I saying!? It’s not like that—not at all! It’s not even close!_

_I—I should be me! E-Even if this is technically having Sayaka back… None of this is right!_

Monokuma, meanwhile, didn’t seem to care about whatever turmoil she was facing. “And there you have it!” he proudly proclaimed… to thin air (supposedly?). “Makoto Naegi, the boring Ultimate Lucky Student, has turned into the despairingly deceased Sayaka Maizono, the Ultimate Pop Sensation! Who could’ve seen _that_ little plot twist coming? I guess our beloved idol can still give a good show for us, even after death, amirite!? All the fanservice is truly unbearable!”

His words finally snapped Makoto out of her conflicted musings. Her anger from moments earlier came back in full force. _…and it’s all **his** fault,_ she finished internally. She growled, a sound that really did not befit Sayaka’s tones at all. “…you’re a monster,” she said. “An absolute monster. I… I can’t believe you’d do something like this…!”

“Monster is such a _strong_ word,” he casually dismissed. “I’m a respectable bear, with respectable qualities.” Makoto resisted the urge to scoff. “But I’ll forgive your words this once. You just haven’t had enough time to get accustomed to your new… you yet. I can help rectify that!”

Makoto’s answer was immediate. **“No!** No, you’re _not_ doing that!” She sat up, glaring determinedly at her captor. “You’ve already taken so much from me—my friends, my family, my body _…_ I’m not gonna let you have your way any longer!”

Unsurprisingly, Monokuma didn’t seem very phased by this development. “Puhuhuhuhu… And what can you do?” he asked, almost condescendingly. “I’ve shown you before that you’ve got nothing against me. And speaking of which…” The perverse host of this killing game suddenly started to giggle, much to Makoto’s great worry. “Those clothes you’ve got _really_ don’t fit you now. Lucky for you, I can fix that!”

Just like with the syringe that started all this, Monokuma whipped out a set of clothes _(Okay, that’s even **less** probable to carry!_ she thought)—a perfect 1:1 replica of Sayaka’s uniform. It wasn’t really surprising to see in and of itself – of course Monokuma would have access to the students’ clothes – but the fact that he had them right here spoke to a level of preparation that was scary to think about. “And don’t you worry a thing,” he ineffectually assured the Luckster-turned-Pop Sensation. “I’m an expert on dressing people down! …and up, but mostly down.”

And with that statement, the bear leaped into action, hopping onto the bed before Makoto could properly react – and a cloud of comedic smoke sprung into view, obscuring much of the ‘action’. Within seconds, Makoto’s hoodie and pants and even underwear were thrown off to the side while Monokuma got her dressed in clothes that were more ‘proper’. She tried to resist being jerked and jolted around – and to avoid blushing at the fact that this crazy wackjob was _touching_ her while she was practically _naked_ – but shockingly enough, the bear was stronger than she expected, and she was very much lacking in any sort of physical strength. (Not that she had much of that when she was a male, though…)

“H- _Hey!”_ she was protesting, “C-Cut it out!” She tried to yank her arm away, but Monokuma merely grabbed it back and hoisted a shirt over her. “L-Let me go already!”

“No can do!” he taunted. “You don’t wanna go out not being decent, after all!”

Soon enough, the monochromatic bear had ceased his activities, and Makoto was finally allowed some room to actually breathe. Panting, the Luckster looked over herself: she was now wearing a white shirt with a blue collar and cuffs, accompanied by Sayaka’s trademark pink ribbon – which for some reason remained untied. A short blue skirt showed off her slender legs well, which bore warm blue stockings with black, buckled heels worn on her feet. Beneath it all, Monokuma even had the ‘decency’ to latch on a pink bra and panties, which only further exasperated how… _girly_ she felt. A trio of hair ornaments completed the look; she was the spitting image of Sayaka Maizono.

There wasn’t any mirror around to show her reflected appearance (and there wasn’t any way she was opening up the bathroom now), but she could imagine well enough.

_What—What kind of lengths is he willing to go to for something like this!?_

“Bwahahaha!” Monokuma laughed. “This is _perfect!_ I personally think I’ve outdone myself this time! You look exactly like the real thing! Ooh, I gotta get a photo of this!”

Abruptly—something Makoto was gradually getting used to—Monokuma took out a camera _(Where does he keep this stuff!?),_ set it on a stand, and hobbled over to the back of his victim’s bed. As he passed by the poor confused Luckster, he slipped something into her hand.

 _H-Huh?_ She blinked. _Wh-What did he…?_

She glanced down—and promptly gasped. To her horror, she saw—

_A—A **kitchen knife**!?_

Was—Was this some cruel joke!?

(…wait, it was Monokuma. Of course it was.)

While atop the bed, he laid down right next onto the pillow she was leaning on, as if the place happened to be his own rather than Makoto’s. He grinned brightly, a sinister grin, right at her face, and infuriatingly teased, “Smile for the camera, _Say-a-ka~!”_ She looked up at said camera on instinct, a perplexed expression still on her face, with a part of her resigned to just going along with whatever the heck was happening (and another part desperately _screaming_ at her)—and then, preceded by a clicking noise, she was blinded by a flash of light.

**_CLICK!_ **

It was over as soon as it had begun. An eerie silence filled the room, for once giving the poor girl a measure of peace from the bear’s antics. It would have been relieving… had Sayaka been in the mood for relaxation, anyway.

As it stood, however, after the extreme torment inflicted upon her?

She wasn’t.

And she had had _enough._

She closed her eyes, taking the time to really get her thoughts and emotions back together. Another precious few moments passed before she opened them back up, and her face became freshly furious with pure frustration.

Clutching the knife in her hand tighter—with a part of her darkly musing about the ironic familiarity of it all—she whirled around to Monokuma and demanded of him, any stutter completely gone, “Well? Was this worth it?” ~~(She didn’t care how un-Makoto-like she was acting right now, if she was – right now, she was utterly _pissed.)_~~ “Was this—this—this _farce_ of a ‘present’ worth everything you’ve done to me?”

Strangely enough, the bear was silent. Creepily silent. Not even deigning to reply with one of his signature offensive retorts.

That should have gotten Sayaka’s suspicions up, but instead, it only worsened her currently blackened temper. She skootched closer to him, bringing her kitchen knife closer to his robotic neck, and hissed louder, _“Was it?”_ Another brief lull. _“What, you have nothing to say?”_

Still nothing. An empty, unresponsive _nothing._ Thoroughly angered now, the Pop Sensation grabbed Monokuma and—against all her better judgements—thrust her ‘borrowed’ weapon right where his heart would be, were he actually alive. In fact, she did it multiple times in a row, barely restrained screams of rage coming from her throat. _This—this stupid bear…!_ she internally growled. _If he’s not gonna even bother replying… then **screw him!**_

Finally, the idol violently tore the knife from Monokuma’s mangled carcass and tossed him off to the side, where—predictably—he exploded with a fairly loud **_‘KABOOM!’_** _._ She watched the fire and the smoke dissipate from her place on her bed with a grim smile on her face. Despite knowing what the ramifications of such an action would be… something in her still cheered in delight at the sheer catharsis she felt, at how her greatest tormentor went down so easily.

…too easily.

 _…wait,_ she started realizing, the arm holding the knife dropping. _Why… **didn’t** he do anything? There’s… There’s no way he’d normally stand there and just… take an assault like that._

_Something’s wrong. Something’s… **very** wrong._

Fear reentered her heart, the worst possibilities immediately coming to mind. _Wh-What if… What if he’s taunting me, saying, ‘I can execute you at any time, you know. I’m just **choosing** not to.’_

_O-Or… what if he’s delaying it, waiting to get my hopes up, or waiting until my despair is at its highest? Wh-What is he gonna—!?_

“Ooh, you’re feisty, Sayaka!” a familiar-yet-not familiar voice hovered into hearing range. “I didn’t think you’d actually have it in you to do something like that! Well, considering what happened last night, I really shouldn’t be surprised… but hey! That’s despair for you!”

Sayaka’s head whipped around in the direction of the newcomer, and the sight she saw made gasp in utter shock.

“J-J-J- _Junko!?”_

Standing close to the wall, from a secret passageway that the Pop Sensation had never seen before, was the supposed-to-be-dead/speared-in-several-places/what-the-hell-is-even-going-on Junko Enoshima, the Ultimate Fashionista. Outfit-wise, she looked largely the same as she had this morning: black cardigan over a white dress shirt, a red pleated miniskirt, and mid-sized black boots with platform heels and red laces. And she was still a strawberry blonde, well-figured, and wearing her hair in pigtails.

But it was the stuff that was different that caught Sayaka off guard. Instead of a patterned bear tie, she wore a half-black, half-white one, inexplicably accompanied by a red bow tie situated over her right breast. A thin black choker hung around her neck; her eyelashes didn’t look nearly as long; she was missing her freckles and a whole lotta makeup; her breasts actually looked a little bigger… and strangely, her pigtails were being held up by a pair of black-and-white Monokuma-themed hair pins, two somethings that Sayaka had thought she would never wear, especially given the gruesome way she went out (or so she thought).

Most alarmingly of all, however… her face didn’t seem to have any trace of sympathy in it, or even concern. Rather… she looked _pleased_ with whatever it was she’d seen. Sayaka didn’t know what that meant, but… that couldn’t be good. Not at all.

“What’s with the look on your face, _Sayaka?”_ she grinned. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Not that I’d know about that, of course!”

“Junko… H-How… How are you still alive?” the idol breathed. She stood up from her bed, walking to the other girl as if she was just a hallucination. (For all she knew, she might have well been.) And was it just her, or was Junko… relishing this whole thing? “I… We… We saw you _die._ Monokuma killed you with all those spears as punishment.” And boy, wasn’t _that_ a sight she’d never forget. “So—So it should be impossible that you’re… you’re…”

_…alive._

_(…and s- **she** had to…)_

“Oh, don’t you worry your little head over it,” the Fashionista casually dismissed. “That wasn’t _actually_ me; it was my twin sister. I know she was disguised as me, but—don’t tell me you can _really_ mistake the two of us now. C’mon, I’m much prettier than that skanky bitch. Just look at my gorgeous face! Do you think it has any of those ugly freckles?”

“Wh-Wha?” Sayaka’s brain needed a moment to process the revelations she had just been given. _Junko has a twin? She’s the one who’s dead? Did—Did she just call her own sibling a—a—‘ **skanky bitch** ’!?_

_What… What the hell is going on!?_

“Isn’t that—Isn’t that kind of… going a little far!?” she protested. “I—I mean… You’re sisters, r-right? Shouldn’t you… treat her with more kindness…?” _Isn’t there a saying, ‘Don’t disrespect the dead,’ or something like that too? E-Either way… this is **weird!**_

“Why should I?” Out of nowhere, Junko had put on a pair of spectacles and was holding a clipboard and pen in one hand. “Mukuro Ikusaba—the Ultimate Soldier, mind you—had what I call the ‘three atrocities’: atrociously rank, atrociously filthy, atrociously repulsive. The fact that she’s dead is doing this whole society a favor, if you ask me. You yourself should be grateful! She could’ve infected you with something disgusting.”

“I… I don’t feel that way!” she denied. “Junko—Mukuro was… She was a friend! _Our_ friend, _your_ sister! You shouldn’t devalue her life like that, not after she died so unjustly…!”

A harrumph. “Still a herbivore even now, I see. So boring. Exactly the way I thought you’d act. I’m surprised you lasted this long, honestly. I had been hoping you’d go out first, but I guess we can’t have everything…”

With Sayaka’s mind fraying in confusion, she latched on to the other questions she still had as an anchor – anything else but the implications of Junko’s statements. “A-Anyway—how did you hide from Monokuma!? I… I thought he had eyes everywhere. He—He said as much earlier, when this whole thing began!” That was how this whole situation started too, with him breaking _into_ her room in the first place! _So how…?_

Abruptly, the Fashionista whipped out— _Is… Is that a Monokuma doll!? Wh-Why is she holding something like that!?_ Horrifyingly, in an imitation of Monokuma’s twisted way of speaking, she explained, “Puhuhuhuhu! You haven’t figured it out yet? Monokuma doesn’t need to look for me… because he _is_ me!” Spotting the horrified look on the idol’s face, she continued, “That’s right! I’m the host of this killing game! I’m the Ultimate Despair that trapped you all in here! _I’m_ the one that turned you, ‘Makoto Naegi’—” ~~(Was it just Sayaka, or did that name seem… _wrong_ to use now? No, it couldn’t be that…)~~ “—into Sayaka Maizono! Aren’t those facts just so… _despairing_ to think about!?”

Sayaka involuntarily backed away from the clearly mad girl, grasping the knife in her hand tighter. _Junko’s the mastermind? Junko’s the one who did this? She’s… the one behind everything?_ A wave of disorientation hit her, and she struggled to stay standing. _Wha… What is this… feeling I have? Why am I sh-shaking so much?_

Even her vision was blacking out a little, though she did her best to keep it colored in. Out loud, she whispered, “You’re… You’re insane. Doing something like this, to all of us… There’s… There’s no reason for you to do it! So… so why? _Why!?”_

Junko stuck her tongue out, and—with her finger and pinky sticking out of each hand—proceeded to loudly declare, “For despair, you fuckin’ dummy! There’s nothin’ I love more in the word than filling everyone and _everything_ with as much despair as I can give ‘em! By contrast, hope is like fuckin’ hell to me, you dig? It’s so bright and happy and _shit,_ it’s just annoying! And like I said—you just have too much of it!

“Lucky for me,” she went back to her normal personality (not that Sayaka knew that; all she saw were the chaotic ramblings of a crazy lady), “we’re on the road to extinguishing that hope once and for all. You can feel it, can’t you, Sayaka? You’re already different than who you used to be.”

“W-Wait…” Something stuck out in her mind. “Why do you keep calling me that? T-That’s not my name! I’m S-Say—Say… M- ~~Mak-oto~~ …?” A hand went to her mouth as she filled in the blanks of yet another terrible realization. “I’m—I’m ~~M-Mak~~ —Sayaka. ~~N-Nae~~ —Maizono. S—M—S-S-Sayaka…” Another breathless moment. “N-No… _No…”_ Her eyes shot back to Junko’s hopelessly satisfied expression. “What… What did you _do?”_

The mastermind walked over to the still-standing-up camera, operating its functions and seemingly looking over something. “Do you remember that picture I had Monokuma took? It wasn’t just as a memento – though I assure you, I’ll remember this for years to come.” The spectacles were back on. “You see, this camera is a new, experimental one that was developed a little while back. Using light spectrums, it contains the technology to subliminally influence a person’s thoughts and personality, warping their very self without them having any concept that they themselves have become any different. I got the idea from a novel of sorts—a ‘Killing Harmony’, if I recall—and though it is imperfect, it serves the task I set it for quite nicely.

“Thanks to a… certain somebody’s work, I was able to set it up so that it’d subtly overwrite your own thinking with that of Sayaka’s. You may not realize it, but you’re referring to yourself internally _as_ Sayaka. You’re thinking like her, speaking a little like her… even using some of the terms that belong to her. Normally, you wouldn’t tear into Monokuma like that if you were still yourself, disregarding the near execution you had earlier today. Not to mention the use of the kitchen knife in your hand… I have to hand it to you, that was certainly a level of expertise I didn’t expect.”

 _Th-That’s not true,_ she tried to deny. _That… That **can’t** be true. B-Because, d-Deep down… I’m still me. I’m still the Ultimate Pop Sens— ~~L-Luckster.~~ R-Right, the Pop Sensat… Sensat… Oh—oh my god…_

_I’m—I’m just imagining things, right? I… I haven’t really forgotten about ~~my sis~~ —my idol troupe, ~~my video ga~~ —my own songs, ~~my best friend’s murd~~ —my near miss… H-huh…? _

Sayaka—aware of her changed point of view now, yet unable to consciously call herself by her old name (and it didn’t even feel like her name anymore)—started shaking furiously, frightened eyes still staring into Junko’s own. Her identity had well and truly been stolen; she couldn’t even convince any of her friends who she used to be now. A pit of despair welled up in her stomach, finally beginning to drown out the sea of hope she normally had – and if one looked closely, they would notice her eyes dimming in brightness… much like what she had seen yesterday, coincidentally enough.

 _“Ohhhh,_ and there it is!” Junko cooed. “You’re feeling it now, aren’t you? _Your inner **despair**.”_ She strutted on up to the distraught idol, coming within inches of her face, and even laying a single manicured nail beneath her chin. Sayaka didn’t react. “It’s growing, glowing darkly within you, isn’t it?” Huskily, she asked her, “Doesn’t it feel so _wonderful~?”_

Again, Sayaka didn’t react besides her arms and hands shaking violently. “I… You… I—I shouldn’t… I don’t—don’t want to…”

“Don’t be like that, Sayaka!” Her perverse smile was so terrible and yet… so mesmerizing to look at. Sayaka couldn’t look away. “Despair is so much of a better feeling than hope! When the light inside your heart disappears and gets replaced with an inky, icky blackness… The never-ending sense of knowing that there’s nothing good in this world anymore… That’s the thing I always strive to create!” A light red blush was highlighted over the Fashionista’s cheeks. “That’s why I did this delightful thing to you, you know. Changing your body, warping your mannerisms, taking your identity… It’s all so I could finally bring you to the darkest depths of despair!” Her eyes glinted. “Well? How is it? Can you feel it in your soul? The total absence of any hope?”

“D-Despair…” The idol brought her eyes to the floor. _H-How… Just how twisted **is** she? What… What lengths will she go to?_

_…‘Bring me to the darkest depths of despair,’ huh…? I—I don’t want to a-admit it, but… what she’s doing? **It’s working.**_

_…I can’t even call myself by my old name anymore. It’s a lot harder to bring up the memories pertaining to my former self, too._

_This feeling… Is this what the ~~real Say~~ —the real me was feeling, after watching the motive videos?_

_Is this why she… she…_

_…_

_H-Heh heh… Ha—ha ha ha ha…_

_It’s getting darker. So much darker…_

_It’s like a deep, dark pit that you can’t climb out of no matter how much you try._

_Junko… She wasn’t kidding about how despair feels at all. There’s no escape; no greater fate to be made. And in the end—these chains of despair won’t ever break._

“That’s right now, Sayaka,” the Ultimate Despair continued, pulling herself back to stretch out her arms. “Despair into tomorrow! Despair into your memories! Despair into nothingness! Give in to all of your despair! That’s your fate as the new Ultimate Pop Sensation!”

_…_

_…_

Just when it seemed like all hope was lost…

A memory came back to her, suddenly.

* * *

_“…why are you telling me all this?” Makoto finally asked her. What was the point? She could’ve honestly just let him simmer in his own thoughts and let that be the end of it. Heck, under normal circumstances, that seemed like something she’d do, given her rather anti-social nature. And yet…_

_“Because you’re the kind of person who can overcome this,” she said, looking directly into Makoto’s eyes. Her lavender eyes displayed a stoic confidence in her words, one that made him almost want to believe. “Because you can move past the death of your friends – Sayaka and Leon – and keep moving forward. Without someone like that, the others would never be able to break free of such a desperate situation.”_

_“Move past their deaths?” That_ would _be the easy route, but…_ After everything that had happened, it wouldn’t be right. _“That’s… I could never do that.”_

_“…”_

_“No… I’m going to carry them with me for the rest of my life.” He looked at Kyoko with an equally determined expression, declaring, “How could I ‘move past’ something like that? Leon… Sayaka… I’ll carry them with me forever. I’ll carry their memories with me wherever I go!”_

_That was the route he was choosing to walk. He couldn’t forget his friends now, even if they hadn’t truly known each other for very long. Sayaka, Leon—even Junko, who had her life equally cut short in such a twisted manner. He’d carry the memories he had of them and use them to remember what he was fighting for, the hope he was striving for. It wouldn’t be easy, he knew that—but there was no way he could do anything differently._

_“So instead of forgetting them, you’re taking the harder road.” She paused for a bit, before she revealed the smallest smile. Faint, just barely visible – but it was there. “Well… I have high expectations for you, then.”_

* * *

“…no,” Sayaka suddenly said.

Junko abruptly stopped smiling, dropping into a dangerously blank expression. “Excuse me, what?”

“I said…” She looked up and glared defiantly into the other girl’s eyes. Once more, she clarified, “No.”

_No—I won’t give in!_

_S—the other me, Leon, J—Mukuro… I promised I’d carry their memories with me wherever I go, and I won’t be able to live up to that if I just let despair—let **Junko** —win here! There’s always hope to be found in situations like these, even if it doesn’t seem like it! And there’s no way – now or in the future – I’ll ever let it die here!_

_No matter what…_

_Hope will always move forward!_

“…still, you continue to resist?” her captor questioned in a monotone voice. She brightened up her face into a saccharinely cute expression, adopting an equally-as-saccharine voice. _“Don’t you think it’d be extra extra **extra** cute if you followed me and became despair?”_

“No way!” Sayaka answered again. “I saw what happened when I—when someone else gave in. I’m not gonna repeat that mistake here!” _You think you’ve beaten me, but I’m not down for the count yet!_

“Ugh…” Junko groaned. “Guess I didn’t do a good enough job eliminating your hope. I should’ve just done what I did with that Class Rep…” She palmed her face as she continued to mutter. “Whatever. I can still make this work. I’ve got plenty of contingencies left.”

Gazing and grinning deviously back at the Pop Sensation, who looked worried from her statements, she detailed, “What? You didn’t think I’d come in here without a Plan B, did you? I’m not the Ultimate Analyst for nothing.”

“…I thought you were the Ultimate Fashionista,” Sayaka slowly stated.

“Oh, I’m both. It’s a long story, and it’s not important right now, trust me. Anyway—” She pulled out a giant syringe from out of nowhere— _Oh, come on! Seriously!? **Another** one!?—_and started giggling. “—there’s another reason I used that camera. Let’s just say… it’d make this thing far more effective than it’d normally be.”

Sayaka involuntarily stepped backward. “What… What does that thing _do…?”_ she nervously asked.

“This little concoction can lower the limits of a guy’s susceptibility to despair temporarily – and the effect is even more pronounced depending on how low it was to begin with. Even heightens one’s senses toward depravity, just for an added kick. And considering how fast the original Sayaka succumbed…” She twirled the syringe around with her fingers, a sinister glint shone in her blue eyes. “…even with your already existing resistance to it, I don’t think you’d last very long injected with this, if you get my meaning. So…”

The other girl got the idea. Immediately, she brought her knife—how long had she been holding this thing again?—up to her chest, holding it threateningly at Junko in an attempt to ward her off. “Don’t come any closer!” she asserted, her face steeling with personal resolve. “I’m not gonna let you inject _anything_ into me again! Not now, not ever!”

“Oh, really? Is that really what you think? That’s funny…” A shadow passed over Junko’s face, and even creeped into her voice. “…because who ever said that you had a choice?”

The twisted Fashionista-slash-Despair Queen dove forward, syringe clenched in hand, at a rate that Sayaka could barely react to – but luckily for her, against most expectations, she managed to parry the initial strike and sidestep away from immediate danger. Adrenaline pumped through her veins as she did her best to fight back against Junko’s continued attacks. _How the heck does that syringe even stand up to this!?_ she allowed herself to wonder, a bead of sweat dropping down the side of her head.

But it was clear she was outmatched. Junko’s obvious prior experience was giving Sayaka a rougher time than she would have normally. The fact that the idol was slowly but surely beginning to tire out didn’t help matters, either, due to her own lack of experience in general combat.

_I don’t think I can hold out much longer… but I can’t just let her keep changing me for the worse. I… I have to keep going…!_

“My my, Sayaka!” Junko was bantering with her. “You’re really not half-bad with that knife! If I weren’t me, I might actually regret giving you it! Despairingly for you… _I’m better.”_ And she was. Though she wasn’t as skilled at fighting as her deceased elder twin, she could definitely hold her own – and coupled with the ability to analyze her opponent’s movements?

Put simply: Sayaka was screwed.

And both of them knew it.

It was this fact that led the increasingly drained girl to dodge off to the side and rush away, her destination being the hidden passageway that Junko hadn’t closed yet. (It was either that, or the bathroom. And she knew how well _that_ would turn out.) _I—I have to get out of here!_

Unfortunately, the Luckster part of her hadn’t been completely smothered away from becoming the Ultimate Pop Sensation – and as such, Sayaka found herself slipping on her old hoodie that had been tossed aside. “W- _Whoa!”_ A brief second was all it took for her to fly into the air and fall onto the floor, landing right onto her butt. Doubly unfortunately, she lost the grip on her kitchen knife in the process, and it slid across the ground far from her current position (close to her room’s entrance, actually).

 _Oh, come on!_ she mentally complained, trying to get her bearings. _Seriously, Monokuma!? Why does my luck keep doing this to me!?_ She was well and truly defenseless now, not to mention utterly vulnerable. And Junko was all too willing to take advantage.

Seizing the opportunity, Junko ran on in and—after putting away her syringe, just for a bit—lifted the other girl off of the floor, grinning all the while. “Finally. Your unpredictable luck’s good for something after all.”

Sayaka kicked and struggled in an attempt to free herself. “L-Let go of me!”

“Mmm… You know, I don’t think I’ve ever appreciated your body for what it is,” the insane mastermind admitted. “I mean, I’m a gorgeous model and all, but you’ve got a physique that a lot of people would literally kill for out there! Transforming did you a load of good.” _I don’t see it that way!_ “Speaking of which…” She took her hands and started _squeezing_ Sayaka’s breasts from beneath, which sent the idol blushing beyond belief. “…you’ve got a _really_ good pair on you, you know. Almost makes me despair that I didn’t get the chance to convert the original Sayaka to my side!”

“S-S-S-Stop!” she stammered, absolutely flustered. (A part of her couldn’t deny that it didn’t feel all too bad – but she’d never admit that aloud.) “Y-You—You—!”

“What? You don’t like me feeling you up? And here I thought you’d want every opportunity to appreciate your new curves!” Junko proceeded to put her hands beneath Sayaka’s shirt and do just that. If possible, Sayaka’s blush became an even deeper shade of red – the feeling of Junko’s cold, experienced hands against her own freshly soft skin… It felt… It felt…

_…w-wait, why am I even feeling this way!? I—I thought that the real me was straight!_

_B-But… Her hands… It—It just…!_

She tried to yank herself away from Junko’s cold grasp, but it was no use – she was just too strong. “Well, enough playing around,” the Fashionista finally said, pulling the giant syringe from earlier back out. “I don’t have all night, as much as I wish I did. I hope you’re ready, Sayaka – say goodbye to your hope for good!”

A frightened expression sprouted on the Pop Sensation’s face, but there was nothing more she could do.

This was it.

She was doomed.

With a wide and delightfully despairing grin plastered on her lips, Junko made to slam the needle right into Sayaka’s neck…

…and was swiftly interrupted by the idol’s dropped kitchen knife flying across the room and shattering the thing into pieces.

Junko blinked. She blinked again. She stared blankly into her hand for a few moments, a slight questioning look on her face. “Huh?” she dumbly said.

 _I agree,_ Sayaka thought. _What?_

Slowly, the two of them turned their gazes to the place where the knife had been thrown… and saw Kyoko Kirigiri standing in the open doorway, a nonplussed countenance on her features. Casually, she said, “I apologize for the interference,” sounding completely unapologetic at all, “but I’m afraid I can’t allow you to continue on with your actions, Junko.”

Sayaka allowed her face to brighten up at last. “K-Kyoko! You’re… You’re here!”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Junko growled, sounding perfectly pissed for the first time. _You can’t analyze everything, huh?_ “Everything was going to plan and _you_ have to show up now!? How did you even get in here!? I made sure the door was locked! And the room’s supposed to be soundproof!”

“My… let’s say, intuition—” (Sayaka lightly giggled, despite everything. That sounded like something she herself would say.)—“informed me something wrong was going on in Makoto’s room. I’ve come to trust in it, especially after the investigation earlier today, so I followed it here and picked the lock open myself. It seems I made it just in time… though I must say, I didn’t expect this turn of events.” She looked curiously at the Ultimate Fashionista. “I had known the mastermind of this killing game would most likely be a depraved individual, but the extent you are willing to go to is truly… unthinkable.” She briefly scanned the knife again, which was now stuck into a nearby wall. “…your sense of humor, it appears, is just as cruel.”

 “Great… I should’ve seen this coming, what with _your_ dumb unpredictable luck and all,” Junko began to grumble beneath her breath, clearly referring to Sayaka’s old talent. “And I should’ve done a better job erasing _her_ Detective talent from her mind…”

“…Kyoko’s a detective?” the idol repeated to herself. “That’s her talent?” _Well, if I’m being honest,_ she thought, _that **does** make sense. She was pretty good at investigating the—err, body today, not to mention the class trial…_

_…I wonder if she knows which one of us actually used the knife._

“Oh, is that right?” Kyoko raised an eyebrow. “Well, that’s not surprising to learn. Thanks for that.”

_…wait, she didn’t know about her talent either!? H-Huh!?_

“Shit!” the mastermind cursed. “I just _had_ to say it… Oh well…” she sighed. “Can’t do anything about it now.” She looked back up at Kyoko’s steely eyes. “So, what are you gonna do about this now?” she asked. “You’ve caught me as the mastermind. You’ve thwarted my plans to turn Makoto—well, Sayaka now—to despair. But you haven’t won yet! I’ve still got her in the palm of my hand! I can do anything I want to her—” She held her captive tighter, drawing a squeal from her—“and there’s nothing you can do about it!”

“On the contrary,” Kyoko calmly replied. “You can’t do anything to her now. There’s a reason you initiated this course of action to begin with, and it wasn’t just for your own amusement.” _What… What’s she getting at?_ “Under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t have directly interfered in your little ‘game’ like this, possibly in the hopes that—eventually—we’d succumb to the despair you as Monokuma preached so much. The fact that you went and transformed Makoto like this indicates that you perceive him— _her_ as a threat to that goal. Am I incorrect?”

“W-Wait— _that’s_ why Junko did all this?” Sayaka spoke up. “I’m… I’m a threat to her? _Me?”_

Kyoko closed her eyes. “It may not seem like it, Makoto, but… yes.”

_I’m… I’m not sure how to feel about that, honestly… I thought I was just the Ultimate ~~Luck~~ —Pop Sensation. That’s not really something to write home about… right?_

Junko kept grumbling. _“Really_ beginning to regret not erasing it more thoroughly now…”

“I thought as much.” She smiled in a satisfied manner. “Taking any action in regards to her here would mean disobeying the regulations you’ve set up for yourself. I don’t think you – or whoever you’re doing this _for,_ if such a category applies – would truly appreciate it if you had to interfere with burgeoning hope yourself rather than let it be gradually snuffed out indirectly. If you step back here, then that, at least, will remain intact. But if you continue to take things into your own hands… the results won’t be what you desire. That much, I can tell you.”

Junko looked extremely conflicted now. She looked for all the world like she wanted to deny Kyoko’s words and just do as she pleased – but as the Detective was implying, doing that would mean acknowledging defeat.

And the Ultimate Despair wasn’t about to do that here.

Not when there was still so much despair left to give.

“…fine.” She dropped Sayaka onto the floor unceremoniously, prompting an undignified yelp out of the smaller girl’s mouth. “You win this round. I’ll let you two go… for now.” She stepped backward toward the hidden passageway while still keeping her eyes on the other two. “Besides… The despair of not knowing if everything will turn out the way you want it…” Her face warped into disgusting ecstasy, the type of which even Kyoko grimaced at. “…it’s just as exciting as any other despair! _Ohhhh…_ Isn’t it something you want to relish in too, Sayaka? Last chance!”

Sayaka got up and backed away from the deranged mastermind. “N-No way!” she denied, ending up behind Kyoko (who only gave a raised eyebrow at her presence). “Just—Just go already!”

“Alright. Be that way then. You’ll learn the futility of clinging on to hope later.” Her words were ominous, tinged with an understanding that neither the Detective nor the Pop Sensation had – and utterly smug in having that superiority. Sayaka didn’t like it – but she was too tired to try and figure out what she was talking about. “I’ll keep you two alive, so long as you keep to the rules. It’s getting late, and as much as I would love to just throw you out there and flounder in despair… it’d be hard to explain, and it wouldn’t create the type of despair I like. So I’ll just go modify everyone else’s memories instead!”

“I see,” Kyoko muttered. “You’re planning to create a new truth, aren’t you? That it was, for all intents and purposes, Makoto Naegi who died the previous night, and Sayaka Maizono who came out of the class trial alive.” Sayaka flinched at this clinical deduction as she inferred the rest internally.

 _‘Make it so that Makoto died and Sayaka lived…’_ Sayaka mused. _She can’t be meaning to practically erase my whole former identity from currently existing… can she?_

_The whole class trial today was predicated on the fact that it was—uhh, the ‘real me’ that kickstarted the whole murder case. Trying to make that… my former self’s fault, as I know she’s most likely going to do…_

_…I don’t like it. Especially because I’d never do something like that, ever._

_And now I’m somebody who **is** willing to. Who almost **did** end up doing it. H-Hahahahaha…_ she chuckled bitterly. _How ironic._

_…I don’t want the old me to be forgotten like this. I don’t want to have to let the ‘real me’s’ memory be violated like this. Neither of which should ever have to happen—ever._

_But… I don’t really have any choice. Not if I want to keep living._

“Puhuhuhuhu… Perceptive as always, Kyoko. Yep, that’s _exactly_ what I’m going to do! By next morning, Makoto Naegi will be nothing more than a pitiful Luckster who succumbed to despair! Doesn’t that just tickle your despair bone?” Kyoko merely glared back silently, and Sayaka responded by hugging herself tightly. “I’ll leave you too to… do as you please.” One last twisted grin filled her face as she left them with, “Don’t get too messy now.”

And once the hidden passageway slid closed, silence at last refilled Sayaka’s room.

It was over.

A victory had been achieved.

(But at what cost?)

Fresh out of adrenaline, the idol hunched over on her knees and began panting heavily, one hand placed over her chest. “Oh my god…” she breathed, bits of disbelief—and happiness—edging into her voice. “I—I survived! I actually survived! For—for a minute, I… I thought I was basically _dead!_ Though…” She suddenly became quieter. “I guess I technically _am_ dead, aren’t I…? My old self, at least…”

…yep, still depressing to think about.

“At the very least,” Kyoko offered, “you came out of this still ‘yourself’, for the most part, no matter how questionable that term has become in the last hour or so. That’s… quite a relief.”

“I guess,” Sayaka replied, getting back to a standing position. She glanced over to the Detective. “…thanks for saving me, Kyoko. I—I really appreciate it.”

“It was nothing too spectacular. I simply acted as I felt like I had to. That’s it.”

“It wasn’t just nothing! A few seconds later and…” She trailed off, not really wanted to think about it again. “W-Well, t-that’s in the past, n-now!” A past that was literally ten minutes ago, but—semantics! “I—I can work with this! It’s… It’s not like… it’s t-the end of the world, a-after all!” She shakily smiled, but its fragility was immensely clear.

“…you’re still troubled, aren’t you, Makoto?” Kyoko noticed. Sayaka didn’t respond. “As much as you’d like to hide it, this event has shaken you by a lot. If you hide your feelings, it’ll only come back to haunt you later on – more dangerously so thanks to our given circumstances.”

 _…she’s pretty good at reading people. I guess kind of like me now… except better._ “…I’m so different now than I was this morning,” the Pop Sensation began explaining. “My—My body, g-gender, personality… e-even m-memories…” She walked over to the front of her bed and sat down, setting her hand close to her cheek. “…none of it’s the same anymore. And the stuff that _is_ still there is… a lot harder to directly recall anymore. I can’t even refer to—to h-h- _her_ as anything but the ‘real me’ either.”

“That’s… That is rather concerning,” the Detective admitted, sitting down next to the other girl. “Not even being able to rely on your sense of self, or the things you know… To say that Junko is a warped individual is an understatement.”

A bitter snort. “You tell me. And that’s not the only thing that’s weird. My whole body just feels so—so—so unfamiliar, despite the whole ‘changed brain’ thing. It’s like not everything was changed by Junko, but… not everything was fused together successfully, either. It’s a weird feeling. You—You get what I mean?”

“I can understand enough of it, yes.”

“And it’s just… what am I supposed to do now? I’m not ready for _anything._ I—I don’t really know how I’ll react to everyone treating me like an idol rather than—you know, who I used to be. I don’t know how to handle _myself,_ either! And that’s not even mentioning the stuff I know about _Junko_ now. She’s practically hovering above all of us. She can do things to us whenever she wants. She murdered her own _sister,_ for crying out loud!” Kyoko’s eyes briefly widened at this revelation as she mentally connected the dots. “H-How—How do I e-even handle that, _and_ everything else!? C-Can I still even hope to m-make it out of here alive?” More quietly, she asked, “…what do I do now, Kyoko?”

Another period of silence surrounded the two of them. The idol’s face was buried in her palms and tears were running down her cheeks. It was clear to Kyoko that her fears and worries had finally caught up to her – and they were overwhelming to feel. Much like the morning earlier, Sayaka needed a hefty dose of comfort to get her back on track.

The Detective may not have been the most social person around… but that didn’t mean she couldn’t give it her best shot.

“…I recognize that you feel as if overcoming this obstacle is a more impossible task than most,” she said, “but I assure you, it isn’t so. You want to carry the memories of your friends in your heart wherever you go, right?”

“W-Well… Y-Yeah. That’s… That’s what I said.” _It—It wasn’t that long ago…_

“Though Junko has made that mission a little more literal than expected… you can still handle it. You more than proved yourself during and after the class trial today, and I trust you’re strong enough not to let this completely get to you. Because… that’s the type of person you are, modified personality or not.” She stared directly into the other’s eyes. “Because you can still find hope waiting at the end.”

“K-Kyoko…” _She… She believes in me that much?_

_I—I don’t know what to say…_

“And don’t forget: just because your status quo has changed doesn’t mean you’ll have to deal with it alone,” she answered. A light blush highlighted her face as she averted her eyes. “…if I’m being honest, there is something about you that… interests me, for lack of a better term. (In… other ways, too…) S-So… if you need anything, then—I’ll be here to help out. I-If you so desire.”

_I ‘interest’ her? S-She’s not… j-joking, r-right?_

And then Sayaka began blushing herself. Now that she was getting a good look at the Detective, there was something about her that was… captivating, in both appearance and personality. Even as her old self, she’d still be attracted.

…though that didn’t mean she was going to admit that. Just because Kyoko half-admitted it herself didn’t make it any less distressing to think about.

“S-Sure!” she stammered, whatever relative amount of composure she had having disappeared entirely. “T-That’ll be g-great!” She shakily smiled again, though this time it was shaky for… completely different reasons. _Oh, my face feels so red right now! I—I hope s-she’s not paying attention to t- **that…**_

“W-Well… I—I guess I should get to sleeping now!” she stated. “It’s pretty late, and e-everyone else is gonna be expecting us at the cafeteria table tomorrow. B-Besides, you’ve already done a lot for me, and I don’t want to trouble you too much and all, and if I stay around you anymore I might say something kinda dumb by acci—u-uhh…” _Shit, I didn’t mean to say that! Q-Quickly, Sayaka, say something!_ “S-So… Have—Have a good night, then?”

_…I need to get to bed before I embarrass myself any further._

To her credit, Kyoko didn’t show any outward reaction— _I wonder if she’s went through awkward stuff like this before—_ and simply replied, “You too, Makoto. Or… do you wish to be referred to as Sayaka, now?”

“…Sayaka’s fine,” the Pop Sensation answered. “I can’t walk away from this, so… I might as well embrace it while I can. M-Maybe… Maybe it’ll turn out alright, you—you know?”

“Very well then… Sayaka.”

With a soft smile on her face, the idol got up and walked around to the side of her bed. She hopped onto it, crawled under her bedsheets, and closed her eyes peacefully. _It’s been a crazy day; the craziest I’ve ever had: a murder, a class trial, Junko, everything else that happened tonight… but finally, it’s all over._

_H-Hahaha… I don’t think I’ve ever been so relieved in my life. My luck’s taken me all over the place—but hopefully now… it’ll let me sleep, if just for a while._

_I don’t know what else Junko has up her sleeve. I don’t know if I’ll be able to survive the rest of this killing game with the rest of my sanity intact. But, maybe with Kyoko… I’ll make it through okay._

_I wonder what tomorrow will bring…_

_…_

_…_

_…_

A ruffling sound, followed by something shuffling beside her. Sayaka’s eyes shot open, and she turned her head to see Kyoko of all people having gotten into her bed. Blushing, the Detective faced the other girl and said, “D-Don’t tell anyone about this, y-you hear me?”

Sayaka smiled. _She’s not as unemotional as she’d like everyone to believe. That’s… not too surprising, if I’m being honest._

“I won’t,” she assured her, “so long as you don’t tell anyone about the knife.”

Kyoko’s eyes widened a bit. “…how did you know I knew about that?”

“Don’t you know? I’m psychic.”

“…That was one of **her** trademark phrases, wasn’t it?”

A quiet giggle. “Yeah. You’ve got pretty good intuition, too.”

“…hm. I suppose we both do, don’t we?” A brief silence. “…that phrase… suits you, if I’m being honest. I wouldn’t mind hearing it from you more.”

“I’ll be glad to grant your wishes then.” Sayaka turned her gaze back toward the ceiling before closing them. “Well… good night, Kyoko.”

“Good night, Sayaka.”

At last, the duo went to sleep, putting a decisive conclusion to undoubtedly the most utterly chaotic day the Killing Game Life had ever seen.

What was to await them after this attempted advent of despair? Could there be any hope of a bright future beyond this nightmare of a game? Who knows?

But hopefully, so long as their hearts held resolute… they’d find a way to make it out.

(And together… they’d sing a song of serendipity.)

**Author's Note:**

> Images used: [First one](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1689527).
> 
> Surprise New Year’s release! Everybody celebrate!
> 
> It’s been a while since I last wrote a TF/TG fic. Actually, it’s been over five months since. It’s high time I made another one, wouldn’t you say? This one took me a whole month to write; as I’ve stated before, I am very good in the act of procrastination, which is why it’s been a while since my last upload. I intended to get this out the door before 2018 ended, but that didn’t come to fruition.
> 
> …and, uh, this ended up surpassing the word count of _Gift of a False Face,_ somehow? Whoops?
> 
>  _Danganronpa’s_ been a key fandom of mine ever since my brother introduced it to me last summer. A similar thing happened with _Persona_ the previous summer, funnily enough. Since then, I’ve dove head on into this hellhole and never looked back. On that note, _Danganronpa V3_ still needs to give me the remnants of my heart back, by the way. And all my tears, too.
> 
> Also, like _Persona,_ the Danganronpa series has plenty of pretty girls to choose from – and three very transformable protagonists, too – so this kind of thing was inevitable. (There’s also not enough of it, if you ask me.)
> 
> I have a soft spot for Sayaka, if you couldn’t tell from _Class 78’s Face-Off Hope Romp._ Originally, I was going to do a Makoto to Junko fic (‘Cause—c’mon. It’s a perfect combination. Their rivalry is practically legendary!), but eventually, I decided to do this instead. Makoto and Sayaka have a good dynamic too, based on the few precious amounts of screentime we see of her, so I believe it works out well.
> 
> It is kind of funny, though – last TF/TG fic involved an idol, this TF/TG fic involves an idol. I have got to get more creative with my scenarios…
> 
> Of course, this being _Danganronpa,_ I can’t have gallons of despair without glimmers of hope beneath – and that’s exactly why I had Kyoko jump in at the last minute, true to form. Chapter 5’s a long time to wait for that moment, I guess. I know that by this point their relationship hasn’t exactly gone through much of the development we see in-game, but—cut me some slack here with the timing, yeah? A little bit of fluff doesn’t hurt anybody.
> 
> I hope Monokuma’s in-character; I know I’ve written him before in past _Danganronpa_ crossover fics, but that was never for prolonged periods of time. I tried my best to capture his over-the-top character, which is kinda tricky, given that he goes all over the place with his personality. In contrast, I’ve barely written anything for Junko – the prologue of _Face-Off Hope Romp_ is all I’ve got for her – so I hope (heh) her motivations and actions here make some semblance of sense.
> 
> The dialogue might not quite be up to par with my usual quality, but I’m kind of tired out from writing out this 15k word monstrosity, so… it’s good enough. I should probably cut back on the word count next time I do this though…
> 
> Well, that’s all for now – tune in next time for whatever the heck I’ll do next!


End file.
